Author: Divyata Solanki, Class X C
Somewhere amidst the cosmic drama,
There are parallels (stupefying mirrors),
That reflect (mock) our own lives,
Plain grasslands and horrifyingly lucid skies (banal like an everyday occurence),
Deities roam (they destroy Earths like our own).
God sits perched upon (not a throne),
A tree of time (it never withers),
A casual flick of his hand (unknowing; don’t blame him),
Sends thousands of galaxies into existential crisis (the human civilisation on the brink of collapse),
(Is this ignorance?).
God stands and the tiny ants (they are building greatness),
Tremble and break and die out like flames (they can only blame fate),
Their souls will curse the unfolding of their trivial lives (they don’t know it’s the same God they worship),
The footfalls of the deity echo as he turns to flicker the lights on,
He brushes his hand across a spiderweb on the light switch (he accidentally breaks the celestial bonds of time)
(That the spiders spent aeons making).
God looks up at the sky (he is a dreamer, too?),
And closes his eyes (eternal peace, frigid peace, ending another universe?),
He looks back upon his life (he is a monster just like his creation, indulging in ignorance),
He tries to find something to reason with (he is trying to fill the constant inner void).
(He wonders of all the destruction, his feigned guilt)
(How innocent, he understands the parallel)
(His life is merely an imitation, there is a greater power above him)
(Because he is a human, swept between fate and prayer).
